


Irascible

by undercoverpeggie



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: ...John is into it, Attempt at Humor, Deputy has anger issues, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Recreational Drug Use, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22905469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercoverpeggie/pseuds/undercoverpeggie
Summary: Wrath, lust, and a whole lotta sarcasm. A tiny, foul-mouthed deputy finds pleasure in bullying the Herald of Holland Valley.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, John Seed/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Irascible

_"You think my plane is stupid?"_

* * *

_"But this Wayward Soul will be found. They willl be punished…and in the end they will see our glorious purpose."_

A weakened groan escaped through cracked lips as blue eyes sluggishly blinked open. 

Rook's head swirled with confusion as she tried to focus on where she was and who the hell was talking so damn loud. 

Pale hands instinctively moved to massage out the oncoming headache only to find them bound in front of her by rough rope, wrists stinging where they connected to a paint-chipped metal bed frame.

A surge of panic washed over her and she felt her insides twist uncomfortably.

Rook tugged at her restraints, pulling so hard she willed one hand to break, but only succeeded in worsening the raw burn around each of her wrists. 

She laid her head back against the cement floor, feeling well and truly defeated. As she stared absent-mindedly at the industrial pipes above, the memory of last night lurched up out of the depths of her nauseated stomach.

She remembered the uncomfortable helicopter ride over the Henbane, the marshal ordering her - a rookie - to arrest Joseph Seed, and the intense walk through the horde of pissed off _armed_ peggies as she escorted their "Father" to the awaiting aircraft.

She didn't know who pushed who first, but when the marshal fired his service weapon into the air the gunshots had rippled over the already heated crowd sending them into disarray. It had all been a blur as she focused on Joseph Seed and getting him strapped in. 

The next thing she knew, the peggies were throwing themselves at the chopper and Whitehorse was yelling at them to brace for impact right before everything went black.

"You know what that means?" Came a voice from somewhere across the room.

She snapped out of her self-imposed trance to look up, an older bald man decked out in army fatigues stood with his back to her as he fiddled with the knobs on an old radio. ' _Was I really that lost in thought?'_

"W-what?" She croaked, throat raw. 

"It means the roads have all been closed and the phone lines have been cut. There are no signals getting in or out of Hope County." 

The man turned and made his way over to her slowly as if to not spook her and sat in a chair a few feet away. He leaned forward, the worn-out metal chair beneath him creaked as he made himself comfortable, looking her directly in the eyes. 

"But mostly it means we're all fucked." 

Rook eyed him warily before doing a quick scan of their surroundings; it was just them occupying the small space. She didn’t recognise the room around her -- the unfamiliar concrete walls and American flag, plaques and picture frames.

"Where are the others? Sheriff Whitehorse?" She inquired suspiciously as she let her eyes slide back to the seated man.

He shook his head and sighed. 

"Don't know about the sheriff, but I saw those peggie bastards hauling that marshal away at gunpoint while I was getting you out of there." 

Images of a steel bridge, an explosion, and the blurry figure of the marshal swimming to safety as she was left behind to meet a watery grave flashed across her memory.

Rook grimaced, the thought of Marshal Burke made her blood boil. Not only did he do zero research before executing a warrant on a heavily guarded cult leader, but he had left her to die _twice_...in one night!

"This goddamn "Collapse"...they all think the world's coming to an end. They've been waiting for it. Waiting for someone to come along and fulfill their prophecy and kick off their goddamn Holy War," he stared at her for a moment, the ghost of a smirk on the corner of his lips, "and you sure as hell kicked, kid."

There was silence for a moment, the smirk falling from the man's features. "The smartest thing for me to do," he said, "would just be to hand you over to them."

Rook's brows curved in anger and she could do nothing but stare up at him, feeling sick with the knowledge she was helpless. Bound and defenseless. If he handed her over to Joseph Seed...

She shook her head vehemently, pulling pathetically at her bound wrists.

There was a metallic click as he stood and revealed a small but sharp knife.

Rook snarled, jerked her wrists against the binds and tried to kick the man that was currently looming over her with a drawn blade.

“Fuck,” he muttered, crouching down to get level with her. "I'm not gonna hurt ya. _Look_.”

He grabbed the rope around the woman's hands and cut it loose, flashing her an apologetic look when he noticed the red circles around each of her wrists.

Rook forced herself to calm down as she sat up against the metal bed frame, sighing in relief. She rubbed at her sore wrists and shook her hands a few times, trying to regain circulation.

"Let's get you out of that uniform - you can't be wearing it out there," the man said, tucking the knife into his trousers before nodding towards the metal locker behind her. "There's some fresh clothes in there. Don't know how well they'll fit, might be a bit," he gestured awkwardly to her small stature, "big on you."

Rook awarded him a blank, unamused stare; she knew she was only a whopping five foot one, she didn't need to be reminded everywhere she went.

The man swallowed and looked away from the firecracker of a woman, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced towards the door. "Anyway, after you get changed, come find me and we'll go over a plan," he said and took his leave, the sound of footsteps slowly fading away.

Rook walked over to the locker and after a few minutes of digging, pulled out the only two items in the entire locker that looked like they could even come close to fitting her.

She took one last look at the door before peeling the army green button-up off her chest along with her pants and boots. She felt her ribs throb but she ignored them in favor of pulling on the black shirt, not surprised when it fell to her thighs. She grumbled as she rolled the too-long sleeves over her wrists, ignoring the cigarette smoke clinging to the collar.

The next article of clothing had Rook holding it out in front of her and gulping when she saw just how small the black denim fabric truly was. She sighed as she placed her feet in between the two holes and slid the fabric up her thighs, quickly buttoning them up.

She plucked an oversized leather jacket from the pile of clothes at the bottom of the locker. The black leather was worn and damaged, and when she slipped her arms through the sleeves she tugged on the collar before plopping down and sliding each leg into her long leather boots. Her legs were thin as she tightly laced all the way to her knees, and when she stood back up she took in her reflection in the mirrored locker door.

Through the speckled glass, she could see the berry-black bruises littering her pale throat, a mean scrape on her chin, and a small cut splitting her lip. She swallowed and let her hand drop to the bottom of the borrowed shirt, lifting the fabric just enough to see a large purple bruise resting right above her hip-bone.

"Fuckin' hell," she muttered, dropping the shirt back down and running a hand through her raven-colored locks; dried blood pulling away with it. 

Rook curved her lip in disgust as she wiped her hand off on her jacket sleeve, mumbling something about a bath under her breath as she left the room.

The steel hallway hummed with dull fluorescent light as she trudged along, walking down a short set of stairs to what she assumed to be some kinda surveillance room if the many screens of live footage were anything to go by.

The man from earlier was leaning over a table, looking over some maps before he glanced up. 

"These yours?" Rook joked, lifting the hem of her shirt and revealing the skimpy denim fabric adorning her lower half.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "They're my niece's."

The deputy walked over and sat down on a swivel stool across from him, lazily spinning around in it as she spoke. "Just fuckin' around…didn't think you had the legs for 'em anyway." 

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head before clearing his throat. "Anyway, I didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself earlier. I'm Dutch."

"Most people just call me Rook," she gave a little shrug and leaned her forearms against the table.

Dutch nodded. "Well Rook, I've been trying to gather what's been happening up top, and it's not pretty," he sighed. "From what I gathered, your partners are still alive...for the time being." His hand gripped at a nearby pen, turning it in his fingers nervously as she waited for him to continue. "They've been split up amongst Joseph Seed's siblings."

Her passive expression didn't waver, but her mind was going a mile a minute.

"I know you want your friends back, I get that. I have friends that have been taken too. The problem is...help isn't coming. No one knows what's going on out here and they won't know until it's too late," he said, pushing off from the table, back to his full height. "But I know there are people out there willing to fight back against the cult. We just need to show them how. Let them know they're not alone. Build a resistance," he explained, and his determined voice fostered a sense of relief in Rook.

"So what's our first move?" She asked.

Dutch jerked his chin towards the safe on the wall behind her. "There's a map of the county in there along with the weapons, holster, and radio you had on you. Take them and write down your frequency for me. I'll radio you once you're out there," he said as he retreated to his surveillance table, now fully focused on the grainy live feed.

Rook stood up and walked a few feet behind her, opening the unlocked safe. 

She took the map and folded it into the pocket of her jacket before sliding on her holster belt and buckling the fasteners, curved hips jerking as she tightened the leather. She put her gun back in the holster, and then her fingers went for the knife, strapping it to her leg. Turning on her radio, she adjusted the volume and clipped it to her belt.

After jotting her radio frequency down on a random piece of paper and sliding it across the table for Dutch to find, she turned to leave but before she could, something caught her eye.

There, pinned to a large bulletin board, were four black-and-white headshots.

With one eyebrow raised she crept closer to get a better look and one instantly stood out amongst the rest.

 _John Seed - the Baptist_ was written across the top in fat, black ink -- but it was the face, especially the bright, startling eyes, that held her attention for the longest. Even devoid of color, they were remarkable. There was a piercing in his ear too, the 'EG' short for Eden's Gate if she had to take a guess. 

He would have been a handsome man if she didn’t have cause to hate him. 

Not wanting to think about that right now, she turned her attention to the note pinned right beside the picture. She read through it carefully as her brows drew into a frown, digesting the words.

Rook forced herself to look back at the falsely innocent face, making a mental note to not be anywhere near him and water at the same time before turning and leaving the safety of the bunker.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the trees, breeze tickling her face where she cautiously peered out from the opening of the bunker. Birds chirped and the susurrus of leaves could be heard, and if she shut her eyes it was almost easy to pretend there was no cult, and that this was just a normal day by the river, fishing pole in hand.

The radio at her hip buzzed to life, pulling her from her thoughts. She wasn't sure if she was thankful or not.

..

The Ranger Station was relatively small and scarcely guarded, much to Rook's relief.

She crept quietly from her hiding place in the tall grass to the back entrance, holding her breath to listen for nearby footsteps as she picked the lock with a spare bobby pin and let herself inside. 

A man was guarding the front entrance with his back to her and the deputy instinctively drew her knife and crept closer, making sure to avoid the shattered glass littering the floor.

The peggie didn’t hear her until she was right behind him. The man flinched, spun around and managed to get his pistol out by the time Rook had him pinned. What the small deputy lacked in strength she made up for in savagery, jamming her knife into the peggie's shoulder and riding him to the ground like a fallen tree.

The man's pistol fired, the bullet shattering a nearby window, alerting the two other patrolling peggies. Rook watched them run towards her, guns drawn in panic. She sheathed her knife and dashed behind a wall, a bullet barely missing her skull and blowing off a piece of the door frame.

Rook peaked through a shattered window and shot one man point blank, no warning. He was mid-way through a tirade about her being a sinner when the sharp crack rang out across the yard, head thrown back as the gun in his hand fell to the dirt. She had no compunction towards killing these cultists, and shot the other one as he scrambled for cover.

Her heart was pounding as she stood up and put her gun back in its holster. Her fingers went for the knife strapped to her leg as she walked back over to the first peggie and pressed her boot down over his throat. The man's shoulder bled from the initial stab wound, animal sounds escaping his mouth as he wriggled on the floor, but the deputy felt no sympathy.

Rook plunged the blade into the peggie's chest with little fanfare, forcing the knife all the way into his chest, stabbing him through the heart. The man's back arched up off the floor, mouth open in a gurgling, choking scream.

The peggie's boots kicked out as Rook watched him die, riding the violent jerk of his body as he writhed under the deputy's boot. 

She yanked the blade out of his chest, a thick band of blood hitting her lower face and neck. It dripped into her shirt, and she made a disgusted noise before standing, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Rook re-holstered her knife, stepping off of the lifeless body as she grabbed the radio off her belt.

"Rook, checkin' in." She pulled the radio to her mouth. "Ranger's Station is ours."

"Well color me impressed, I think you have a real shot at setting up this resistance," Dutch's voice crackled across the radio. "Now this next step is very important. I need you to clear up the radio signal. My CB's on the fritz and I can't get ahold of anyone off the island which means I won't be able to get ahold of you when you make your way out," he explained.

"What do you want me to do?" The deputy asked as she walked out of the station and looked towards the massive statue of Joseph Seed in the distance, so large and accurate she would almost be impressed the cult had built it themselves if it wasn't such a fucking eyesore.

"There's a radio tower near the south shore. It must be busted. I need you to take care of it for me, think you can manage?" 

"Sir, yes sir." She replied with a half-assed mock salute before she pressed forward into the tree line.

..

After a not-so-fun climb up a radio tower with three different squeaky ladders and pulling the switch at the very top, Dutch's voice buzzed over the radio static.

"Now I know what you're thinking and _no_ , I'm not gonna have you climbing radio towers all over Hope County for me," he reassured her, "and try not to fall on your way down, would ya? It's a long drop."

"Funny," she replied sarcastically just before a gust of wind rattled the grated steel below her. A shaky hand reached out to firmly grasp at a metal side rail as she swallowed the nervous sound in her throat.

Rook sent a heated glare to her radio in hopes that Dutch could feel it all the way from his bunker.

After a pregnant moment of intensity, Dutch broke it with a deep laugh. "Relax, Deputy! I'm just joking," his voice became gentle as if he could sense her anxiety. "There should be a zipline up there somewhere. No more climbing, scout's honor."

A slight smile twitched on Rook's face, her worry slightly lessening as she turned and, sure enough, saw a sturdy blue rope connecting to a tree off in the distance.

She breathed a sigh of relief and clipped her radio to her belt before getting into position and sliding down, eyes clenched shut the entire time. As her boots hit the dirt below she took a second to catch her breath.

"Oh shit...Deputy?" Dutch's weary voice rang out from her hip. "I'm picking up something out of Holland Valley." 

Rook straightened herself up and raised a questioning brow as she brought her radio to her lips, about to ask what was wrong when his voice came through again.

"It's a broadcast from John. You need to see this." 

* * *

"We are all sinners. Every one of us." 

Rook had hauled ass back to Dutch's bunker as soon as she got the message. She curled up on a worn-out sofa and lit a cigarette she had bummed off the old man, staring into the old television set.

"You. Me. Even the Father knows deeply of sin. It's a poison that clouds our minds."

Rook raised an eyebrow at the expensive-looking custom coat that draped the baptist, taking a purposefully long drag of her cigarette. ' _I wonder what your God would say about that lavish coat, John.'_

"What if I told you, you could be free from sin? What if I told you everything you ever dreamed could come true? What if I told you that everything could be overcome if you embraced an idea: That freedom from sin could come from the power of just one word…" The camera slowly panned up above John to reveal three lit up letters that spelled out the word "YES". 

Rook rolled her eyes as the crowd cheered, already regretting the energy she wasted running back here. She didn't know what she expected but it sure as hell wasn't this.

Dutch made an unimpressed noise somewhere behind her and she in return tossed an amused look over her shoulder.

"Can you believe this shit, Dutch? I mean, who the hell does he think he-"

The words died on her tongue and all traces of amusement were lost as the camera panned over to the distressed face of her partner, Deputy Hudson, who was currently being ushered towards John by a bearded peggie. Her wrists were bound too. Her cheeks stained with tears. 

Suddenly the deputy felt tenfold angry, lips taking a deep draw from the forgotten cigarette in an attempt to calm herself down. 

"Yes, I am a sinner. Yes, I wish to be unburdened. Yes...I must be redeemed." John passionately spoke as he let his tattooed hand come up to Hudson's throat, threatening to choke her. "If you're watching this know that you have been selected. You will be cleansed. You will confess your sins, and you will be offered atonement."

Rook's jaw clenched.

"Don't worry you don't have to do anything. We'll come for you. Welcome to Eden's Gate." And when the man’s mouth curled into a fake smile, her temper flared faster than she could get a grip on it. 

"Suck my ass, Seed! I'm not atonin' for shit! You dickless motherfucker-"

"Christ on a crutch, kid!" Dutch exclaimed and shot her a disapproving look.

"He threatened me! _Subliminally!_ Did you hear that?!" Rook stood and pointed at the now static television.

Dutch sighed as he tried to calm the woman down. "Look at it this way, we have a place to start now. Hudson looks like she's been through hell and back, and you need to get going."

She bit the side of her cheek to calm herself, peering back towards Dutch when she felt she could speak without a string of obscenities leaving her mouth.

"You're right," she nodded her head with a sigh, putting out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I'll radio you if I need anything, and you radio me if you hear or see anything, alright?" 

Dutch nodded before stumping out his own cigarette, standing. "You be careful out there kid," the man warned, glancing up at her. "And good luck. I feel like you're gonna need, especially when dealing with that sadistic bastard."

Rook stiffened but nodded, determined. "I'll be alright."

What choice did she have? She had a team to save, and a resistance to build.

* * *

Rook set out on foot through Holland Valley as soon as she left Dutch's bunker, taking all necessary measures to keep herself from being spotted by the peggies.

An hour later, she happened upon a secluded river, an oasis amongst pine trees. It looked awfully inviting, dark and cool, and deep enough to hide from prying eyes.

The smell of freshwater called to her and suddenly Rook was starved for it, her skin still covered in a film of dirt and blood. 

The deputy shrugged off her borrowed leather jacket and threw it onto the ground, her waist bending as she leaned against a tree and started untying her boots, sliding them from her thin stems. She was so thrilled at the idea of getting a bath that she didn’t shy away at removing her shirt and wriggling out of her shorts, leaving her in her black undergarments as she set aside her weapons and holster.

Rook waded out into the cool water, releasing a sigh as it came up to her collarbone. Her fingers fanned out as she submerged herself, hair floating around her like tentacles. She dipped under the water and when she resurfaced she came up clean. The river washed it all away and eventually, the deputy relaxed and let her head tip back into the river.

She listened to the muffled sounds of birds chattering and the trees rustling in the breeze, relaxing only for a minuscule moment before a nasally, somewhat familiar voice echoed from the shore.

" _Deputy._ "

Rook jerked her head up, eyes frantic as they searched the shoreline and found no one; only then did the realization begin to dawn on her. She swiftly waded through the water until she reached dry land and dashed to where her radio laid in the grass just as it came to life once more.

"It's only day one and I've already caught you with your pants down...though I can't say I don't much enjoy the view."

Rook's eyes widened, her lip curled. “Who the hell is this and how did you get my private frequency?” She demanded into the receiver, eyes scanning the surrounding area. "And where the hell are you?"

There was a short pause.

"I'm wounded, Deputy. Didn't you watch the broadcast? I thought you'd _surely_ recognize my voice by now."

Panic.

It was the first emotion Rook felt as she scrambled for her shorts, ignoring her dripping limbs as she pulled the denim fabric up her legs and re-gripped her radio.

"Ohh, you're that tattooed jackass that is holding my friend captive, correct?" Rook asked nonchalantly, despite being a bundle of nerves.

" _Incorrect,_ Deputy. I'm getting her to atone. We are saving her from the Collapse," John said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, she looked _real_ grateful from where I was sittin', Johnny. I'm sure those tears on her face were tears of joy, not fear," she remarked sarcastically, "my bad for misreading the situation."

"My, my, my -- you sure are a mouthy little thing, Deputy." 

She could practically hear the smirk on John's face and it caused a scowl to grace her otherwise pretty features.

"Stop that," Rook demanded, squeezing the radio as tight as she could. “Stop saying my title at the end of every sentence."

There was a beat of silence before a voice came through again.

"Are you or are you not a deputy… _Deputy_?" John's smugness poured off his words and Rook almost threw her radio into the river, but immediately calmed herself like she was the master of composure.

"Was there a point to all of this or did you just call to annoy the shit out of me?" She huffed and leaned against the tree behind her. "And try to make it fast, yeah? I'm freezing my tits off out here," she grumbled the last part as her free arm came up and wrapped around her slim middle. ' _God I need a cigarette. Two cigarettes. Fuck make it twenty.'_

John laughed out a breath on the other end, her bad attitude rousing his interest even more.

"I can't say I'm all that surprised. Taking a dip in fifty-degree waters will certainly do that, especially when you're wearing so... _little_." 

Rook knitted her brows as she remembered his earlier words and pushed herself off of the tree, eyes searching her immediate surroundings. 

"That reminds me...just where are you exactly?" Both of her eyes got all squinty and suspicious, starting to feel a bit dumb. "And why are you watchin' me like some sorta voyeuristic pervert?" 

"Well, you're the one that's taking her weekly bath in my backyard, Deputy." Rook bristled at his words, her expression falling into one of scorn and confusion. "And when one of my Chosen radioed to tell me they spotted you _frolicking_ in the river behind my ranch, well...I just knew I had to come down and see for myself." 

Rook jerked her head up towards the slope overlooking the river, quickly backing up and shielding her eyes from the harsh sun as she scanned the dense treeline. 

Her eyes soon caught sight of the ridiculously expensive-looking trench coat, its smirking owner casually leaning against a tree, radio still pressed to an ear as he gave her a mock wave.

"So what happens now? You gonna shoot me or somethin'?" Rook huffed and put a hand on her hip as she jutted it out with attitude. 

"Would you like me to, Deputy?"

"Honestly I'm down for anything that will help me escape your obnoxious ass."

"There it is again -- _wrath._ " A concerned look spread across John's fine face and he softened his voice in an insulting manner. "Tell me, Deputy, what exactly has you so angry?"

Rook watched John like a hawk as she brought the radio back up to her lips.

"Y'know, it could be the fact that I smashed my face into the dashboard of a truck as my partner and I were blown off the road by a _stupid_ _plane_ ," she narrowed her eyes, cheek twitching in anger. "Perhaps it has to do with the fact that all my partners have been taken hostage by you and your psychotic family," she softly tapped her chin with her index like she was thinking. "Or maybe _, just maybe,_ it's the fact that I'm standing in my BRA arguing with some wannabe therapist dickbag when I could be enjoying a quiet moment to myself! Maybe it's a mix of all three! I can't really decide, John!"

There was a short silence as the mood between the two heated up, both watching and listening intently for the other, both awaiting one more snap of a reply.

"You think my plane is stupid?" John spoke first, his voice calm enough to have Rook seeing red.

"Is that ALL you took from that?!" She snarled like the vicious little thing she was, clenching the radio with her thin digits like she wanted to beat John with it.

John opened his mouth to argue but before he could she abruptly ended the call, clipping her radio onto her shorts as she began scooping up her remaining clothes.

"You know you can still hear me, Deputy!" He called out after Rook, who had already turned her back on him and was walking downstream, hoping to find a place to dress _away_ from the baptist's lingering gaze.

"No I can't fuck off!" 

John smirked when the little deputy flipped him off, disappearing out of his line of sight. 

With an amused huff and a shake of his head, the baptist finally turned around, making his way back up the path to his ranch when an idea struck him.

He switched to his Chosen's frequency, and after a string of commands, John slid his radio back into his pocket with a smile.

The vest that wrapped around his waist wrinkled as he gave it a self-satisfied tug. _'I'm afraid you won't be getting away that easily, Deputy.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments are hugely appreciated.


End file.
